‘Get up, old man!’ she said, at last, as though she were coming to herself. ‘Say a kind word to our guest – a guest who is like a brother to us! Get up, unbowing, arrogant old man, get up and bow, take our guest by his white hands, sit him down at table!’
Ordynov raised his eyes, and only now seemed to remember where he was. Only now did he give any thought to Murin. The old man’s eyes, which seemed to have grown dim with the melancholy of approaching death, were looking at him fixedly; and with pain in his soul he remembered this gaze, which had last glittered towards him from under black, beetling brows which then, as now, had been knit with wrath and anguish. His head had begun to spin slightly. He looked around him and only now grasped everything clearly and distinctly. Murin was still lying on the bed, but was now more or less properly dressed, and looked as though he had been up and about ever since the morning. His neck was tied, as before, with a red neckerchief, and he wore slippers on his feet. His bout of illness had evidently passed; only his face was still fearfully pale and yellow. Katerina stood by his bedside, leaning on the table with one arm, and looking at them both attentively. Her welcoming smile did not, however, fade. It seemed as though all this had happened at her bidding.
‘Ah, it’s you,’ Murin said, raising himself a little and sitting up in bed.’You’re my lodger. Sir, I owe you an apology. I wronged you and offended you quite without meaning to when I played those tricks with my gun the other day. Who could have known that you too were afflicted with the black infirmity? I get taken with it,’ he added in a hoarse, sickly voice, knitting his brows and involuntarily looking away from Ordynov.’When the calamity arrives it doesn’t knock at the door, but steals in like a thief! The other day I nearly stuck my dagger into her breast…’ he said, nodding in Katerina’s direction. ‘When I’m ill I have fits, and – well, that’s enough for you. Sit down – be our guest!’
Ordynov was still looking at him fixedly.
‘Sit down, then, sit down!’ the old man cried, impatiently. ‘Sit down, if that’s what she wants! Just look at you, you’re as close as brother and sister! You’ve fallen for each other like a pair of lovers!’
Ordynov sat down.
‘You see what kind of a sister you’ve got,’ the old man went on, laughing and showing two rows of perfect, white teeth.’Exchange caresses, my dears! Don’t you think your sister’s rather nice-looking, sir? Come on, let’s hear you speak! Oh, look, her cheeks are simply burning. Go on, look round, honour a beautiful woman to all the world! Show that your zealous heart is aching for her!’
Ordynov frowned and gave the old man a look of intense hatred. The old man flinched from his gaze. A blind fury erupted in Ordy-nov’s breast. With a kind of animal instinct he sensed near him the presence of a deadly enemy. He did not know what was happening to him, his reason refused to obey him.
‘Don’t look!’ a voice said behind him. Ordynov looked round.
‘Don’t look, don’t look, I say, or has the devil got into you? Have pity on your love,’ said Katerina, laughing, and she suddenly put her hands over his eyes from behind; then she at once took her hands away and covered her face with them. But the blush on her features seemed to break through her fingers. She removed her hands and, burning all over like fire, attempted to meet their laughter and inquisitive gazes brightly and calmly. Both men, however, viewed her in silence – Ordynov in a kind of bewilderment of love, as though this terrible beauty were piercing his heart for the first time; the old man intently and coldly. His pale features displayed no emotion; only his blue lips trembled slightly.
Katerina went over to the table; not laughing now, she began to clear away books, paper, inkwell, the table’s entire contents, putting them all on the windowsill. Her breathing was quick and impetuous, and from time to time she sucked air avidly into herself, as though her heart were constricted. Heavily, like a wave breaking on a shore, her full breast sank and rose again. She lowered her eyes, and her jet-black eyelashes gleamed against her radiant cheeks like sharp needles…
‘A Tsar-maiden!’ the old man said.
‘My sovereign Queen!’ Ordynov whispered, quivering all over. Feeling the old man’s gaze on him, he came to himself: for a moment that gaze flashed like lightning – cruel, voracious, coldly contemptuous. Ordynov attempted to get up, but his legs seemed paralysed by an unseen force. He fell back into his chair again. From time to time he gave himself a pinch, as though he were not sure that what was happening was real. He felt as though he were being smothered by a nightmare, as though he were still sunk in a feverish, unhealthy sleep from which, strangely, he did not want to awake…
Katerina removed the old rug from the table and replaced it with an exquisite cloth, embroidered all over in brightly coloured silk and gold, which she took from a trunk. Then from a cupboard she produced an old-fashioned, ancestral cellaret made entirely of silver, placed it in the centre of the table and took from it three silver wine-cups – one for the master, one for the guest and one for herself; then with a haughty, almost reflective look she surveyed the old man and the guest.
‘Which of you is not liked by the other?’ she said.’Whichever of you it is, I love him, and he will drink from my cup. And as for myself, I love each of you, each is dear to me: so let us drink to love and harmony!’
‘Let us drink and drown our black thoughts in wine!’ said the old man in an altered voice.’Pour it for us, Katerina!’
‘Would you like me to pour you some?’ Katerina asked, looking at Ordynov.
Ordynov silently pushed his cup towards her.
‘Wait! If anyone has a secret wish, let it come true!’ said the old man, raising his cup.
They all knocked their cups together and drained them.
‘Now let you and I drink together, old man!’ said Katerina, turning to her master. ‘Let us drink, if your heart has any fondness for me! Let us drink to the happiness we have known, give a greeting to the years we have lived, bow to fortune in love and heartfelt thanks. Let me fill your cup, if your heart has any warm feelings for me.’
‘Your wine is strong, my little dove, but you yourself are only moistening your lips!’ said the old man, laughing and holding out his cup a second time.
‘Yes, I shall only take a mouthful, but you must drain your cup to the bottom!… Why live, dragging heavy thoughts about with you, old man? Heavy thoughts only make the heart ache! Thoughts come of sorrow, thoughts call to sorrow, in happiness there are no thoughts! Drink, old man! Drown your thoughts!’
‘Much sorrow must have gathered within you, since you are so embattled against it! You evidently want to do away with it at once, my little white dove. I drink with you, Katya! And do you have any sorrows, sir, may I ask?’
‘Those that I have I keep to myself,’ Ordynov whispered, never taking his eyes off Katerina.
‘Did you hear that, old man? For a long time I, too, did not know myself, was not conscious of myself – but the time came when I gained that knowledge, that consciousness; I relived all that I had experienced, with an insatiable soul.’
‘Yes, it is bitter when one begins to struggle through to one’s past,’ the old man said, meditatively.’What is past is like wine that’s been drunk! What happiness is there in the past? The caftan’s worn out, and away with it…’
‘Then you must get a new one!’ Katerina said, breaking in with a strained laugh, and two large teardrops hung like diamonds from her glittering eyelashes. ‘After all, you can’t live an entire life in the space of one minute, and a maiden’s heart is lively, you’ll never catch up with it! Haven’t you learnt that, old.man? Look, I’ve buried one of my tears in your wine-cup!’
‘Did you buy your sorrow at the price of much happiness?’ Ordynov asked, and his voice trembled with emotion.
‘Really, sir, you must have a lot of your own for sale, to go barging in unasked like that,’ said the old man. And he chortled with malevolent, inaudible laughter, giving Ordynov an insolent stare.
‘Wha
t I sold my happiness for is in the past,’ Katerina replied, in a voice that sounded hurt and displeased.’To some it might seem too high a price, others might think it too low. Some people want to give away everything and see no reason for taking anything, while others promise nothing but have an obedient heart to follow them around. Don’t be too hard on people,’ she said, looking sadly at Ordynov.’One person is one way, and another person is another way, and goodness only knows why the one seeks out the other! Fill your cup, old man! Drink to the happiness of your loving daughter, your quiet, obedient slave, as she was when first you came to know her. Raise your cup!’
‘Very well, then. Fill yours, too!’ said the old man, picking up his wine.
‘Wait, old man! Don’t drink more yet – let’s talk a bit first…’
Katerina leaned her elbows on the table and looked fixedly into the old man’s face with eyes that were passionate and on fire. A strange determination shone in them. But all her movements were restless, and her gestures were impetuous, swift, unexpected. It was as if she were ablaze from top to toe, and this was taking place in a wondrous fashion. Somehow her beauty seemed to intensify along with her excitement and animation. From her lips, which were opened in a smile that showed two rows of white teeth as regular as pearls, there came an impetuous breathing which slightly dilated her nostrils. Her bosom was agitated; the plait of her hair, which was twisted in a threefold bun at the nape of her neck, fell slightly on to her left ear in a careless manner, covering part of her burning cheek. A light perspiration stood out on her temples.
‘Tell me my fortune, old man! Tell it for me, father, tell it before you drink your mind away; here is my white palm! After all, it is not for nothing that people call you a sorcerer. You have learned from books, and know the black lore inside out! Look, old man, tell me all my miserable fate; only see you don’t lie! Come, tell me as you know how to – will your daughter find happiness, or will you not forgive her, and bring down upon her head a fate of evil and sorrow? Tell me, will the corner I inhabit be warm, or shall I, like a bird of passage, be all my life an orphan, seeking a place for myself among kind people? Tell me who my enemy is, who cherishes love for me, who is preparing evil for me? Tell me, will my young, passionate heart live out its days in isolation and die prematurely, or will it find its equal and beat with it in joyful harmony… until new sorrow comes! Tell me once and for all, old man, in what blue sky, beyond what seas and forests my bright falcon lives, whether he is keenly spying out for himself a falcon-mate, whether he will wait for me lovingly, love me with a strong love or soon fall out of love with me, deceive me or not deceive me? And finally, tell me, old man, are you and I to while away our lives much longer in this soulless corner reading black books; and when will I bow low to you, old man, take my leave of you for ever, thank you for your hospitality, for giving me to eat and drink, and telling me your stories?… Yes, see that you tell the whole truth, don’t lie; the time has come, stand up for yourself!’
Her animation grew greater and greater until her last word, when her voice suddenly sank away in emotion, as though a whirlwind had carried off her heart. Her eyes glittered, and her upper lip trembled slightly. A venomous mockery snaked and slithered in her every word, but a weeping seemed to ring out in her laughter. She leaned over the table towards the old man and looked fixedly, with avid attention into his dulled eyes. As she finished speaking, Ordynov heard her heart suddenly begin to throb; when he looked at her, he cried out in ecstasy, and tried to get up from the bench. But the old man’s cursory, instantaneous gaze once again rooted him to the spot. A strange mixture of contempt, mockery and impatient, irritated restlessness together with a sly, malevolent curiosity glowed in that cursory, instantaneous gaze, which never failed to make Ordynov flinch and on each occasion filled his heart with bile, vexation and impotent rage.
Meditatively and with a kind of sad curiosity the old man looked at his Katerina. His heart had been wounded, the words had been said. But not a muscle of his face moved. When she finished, he merely smiled.
‘You want to know a great many things all at once, my fully fledged little bird, my startled pigeon! You had better fill my cup deep; let us drink first to reconciliation and good will; otherwise someone’s black and unclean eye will spoil my prediction. The devil is powerful! Sin is ever near!’
He raised his cup and drained it. The more wine he drank, the paler he grew. His eyes became red as live coals. It was evident that their hectic lustre and the sudden, corpse-like blueness of his face heralded a fresh attack of his infirmity. The wine was strong, and after only one cup of it Ordynov’s head was reeling more and more. His feverishly inflamed blood could restrain itself no longer: it flooded his heart, obscuring his reason and confusing it. His agitation grew worse and worse. He went on pouring wine for himself and gulping down mouthfuls of it, not knowing what to do in order to quell his increasing excitement, and the blood hurtled ever more swiftly through his veins. He was in a kind of delirium, and even though he strained his attention to the uttermost he could hardly follow what was going on between his strange landlord and landlady.
The old man brought his silver cup down on the table with a loud clang.
‘Fill my cup, Katerina!’ he cried.’Fill it again, wicked daughter, and again, until I collapse! Lay the old man to rest, and have done with him! That’s right, fill my cup again, go on, fill it, you beautiful girl! Let’s drain our cups together! Why aren’t you drinking? Or have I not been looking…’
Katerina made some reply, but Ordynov could not hear what it was: the old man would not let her finish; he seized her by the arm, as though he were no longer able to contain all the emotions that were jostling within his breast. His face was pale; at one moment his eyes grew dim and lustreless, at the next they flared with a brilliant light; his white lips trembled, and in an unsteady, confused voice, in which at moments there flashed a kind of strange ecstasy, he said to her:
‘Give me your hand, beautiful girl! Let me tell your fortune – I will tell you the whole truth. I am indeed a sorcerer; you are not mistaken, Katerina! Your little golden heart did not deceive you when it told you that I am its sorcerer, and I shall not conceal the truth from it, simple and artless as it is! But there is one thing which you have not understood: it is not for me, a sorcerer, to teach you intellect and reason! Reason does not bring a maiden freedom; she can hear the truth in its entirety, yet still not seem to know or understand. Her head is a cunning serpent, even though her heart is flooded with tears. She will find her own path, snake her way through calamity on her belly, preserve her cunning freedom! Where she can, she will take by intelligence, and where she cannot, she will cloud the mind with beauty, intoxicate it with her evil eye – beauty destroys strength; even a heart of iron will crack down the middle! You ask me if you will know sadness and sorrow? Heavy is human sadness! But calamity does not strike feeble hearts. It is strong hearts that grow acquainted with calamity; they melt quietly with bloody tears but do not go begging for sympadiy from people in sweet shame: your suffering, maiden, will be like a footprint in thesand – dierain will wash it, the sun will dry it, the stormy wind will blow it and sweep it away! Let me say this, too, with the advantage of the second sight: whoever falls in love with you, you will be his slave, you will surrender your freedom to him and give it to him as a pledge, never to reclaim it; you will not be able to fall out of love with him again when the allotted term is up; you will plant one single grain, but your undoer will harvest a whole ear! My tender child, my head of gold, you buried your pearl-like tear in my wine-cup, but you were not able to endure its loss, and at once you shed a hundred more, wasted your beautiful words in boasting of your life’s sufferings! And yet there is no need for you to grieve for your tear, your heavenly dewdrop! It will return to you with interest, your pearly tear, in the long, miserable night when cruel sorrow and unclean thoughts will gnaw at you – then because of that same tear someone else’s tear will drop on to your passionate heart, a
tear that is mingled with blood, not warm, but like molten lead; it will inflame your white breast until the blood comes, and as you wait for morning, the kind of gloomy, depressing morning that comes on wet days, you will toss and turn in your little bed, shedding your scarlet blood, and your fresh wound will not heal until the morning after that. Fill my cup again, Katerina, fill it, my little dove, fill it for my wise advice; and let us waste no more words…’
His voice grew weak, and began to tremble: an attack of sobbing seemed about to burst from his breast… He filled his cup with wine again and greedily drank it down; then, as before, he clanged his cup on the table. His clouded gaze flared up once again.
‘Ha! Live and let live,’ he cried. ‘What’s done is done! Fill my cup, fill it again, keep refilling my heavy cup so that my turbulent head is cut from its shoulders, and my soul goes numb! Put me to sleep for the long night that has no morning, and take my consciousness away for ever. What’s drunk is finished with and gone! The merchant’s goods have grown rotten from lying around too long, he’s giving them away for nothing! He shouldn’t have been so stupid as to sell them for less than they were worth, he should have spilt the blood of his enemies, the blood of the innocent, and made that buyer lay down his lost soul into the bargain! Fill my cup, fill it for me again, Katerina!…’
But his hand, with the cup in it, seemed to grow paralysed and stopped moving; he was breathing heavily and with difficulty, his head involuntarily sagging. One final time he fixed his dim gaze on Ordynov, but this, too, faded at last, and his eyelids fell as though they were made of lead. A deathly pallor spread over his face… His lips continued to move and twitch for some time, as though they were trying to say something – and suddenly a tear, hot and large, swelled on his eyelashes, broke free and slowly rolled down his pale cheek… Ordynov could contain himself no longer. He got up, took a staggering step forward to Katerina, and seized her by the hand; but she did not even glance at him, as though she had not noticed him or did not recognize him…
Poor Folk and Other Stories Page 25